Liz wipes a sleeve across Darian’s face, then her own mouth. “Gross. Whose blood did you get all over me?” she teases.

Darian glances guiltily my way, and Liz follows the look. Her gaze quickly skips over all of us to rest on her brother.

“Quill!” she cries, her expression brightening. She heads our way, dragging a reluctant Darian along with her. Seeing the confident, strict captain act self-conscious is definitely a strange change of pace. Probably more strange for her soldiers, though judging by their expressions, they mostly seem amused.

“You escaped the attack,” Liz says, her shoulders sagging in relief. “And Constance?”

“He fought them off,” Quell says, still apparently in some state of shock.

“Of course he did.” Liz chuckles bitterly. “You’re not telling me I’m the only one who got kidnapped?” Her face falls. “By the gods, I was! That’s embarrassing. You mean to tell me you escaped and I didn’t? No offense. But really!”

“I was also rescued.” Quell gestures to me. “Nye saved me.” Then he blinks, as if coming out of a daze. “But—but you and Captain Darian?”

Liz looks me up and down, her mouth quirking in a smile. “Oh, thank heavens. That makes me feel better. We both have hunky suitors, eh?”

Warmth flashes through my cheeks. “Uh, no. No.”

Quell also splutters. “What? No! That’s not—you’re dodging the question!”

Liz waves a dismissive hand at him. “It’s very simple, Quill, Darian and I have been having a covert affair for nearly two years, now.”

Darian shifts uncomfortably. “Perhaps we should not be so blase about this in present company.”

“Why?” Liz demands. “The cat’s out of the bag. And I was just abducted by the enemy for heaven’s sake! If I’m allowed to kiss my lover anytime, it’s now, and I refuse to have that taken from me.”

“But she’s not of noble blood,” Quell splutters. “If mother and father found out—”

“Abyss take our parents!” Liz cries. “I’m not first in line for the throne anyway, so what does it matter?” She glances around us, back toward the Coil. “Now are we going to stand here and argue until those guards arrest us, or do we have better places to be?”

The rest of us look back as well. A group of guards have mounted two-legged bird-like creatures and are heading our way. Glints from spear tips flash in the sun.

“We need to put some distance between us and The Coil,” Darian says, her commanding tone returning. “We can discuss matters further at a safe distance.” She points to two of the star drakes the Moonfall soldiers had been riding. “Divvy up among the mounts. No, Xamireb, you stay there, you’re clearly injured. Is it bad?”

Xamireb had been in the process of trying to push themself upright, but were clearly struggling. “It will need addressing,” they admit.

“I can staunch it for now,” Earnest says. “That should buy us more time.”

Darian nods. “Good. Then Nye, you will accompany Quell to that drake nearest. Princess Felicity and I will take the last. Everyone ready?”

“Yes, Captain,” Earnest and Xamireb reply.

Liz snorts. “You better not start Princess Felicity-ing me now.”

Darian grimaces. I can’t imagine her compartmentalized lives colliding together like this is very comfortable. But Liz is right; there’s time to discuss plans later, once we’re somewhere safe.

I look out across the inhospitable desert and the hot, packed clay that seems to stretch to every horizon, wondering where we can make camp that will provide cover from Umbral Blades, or giant carnivorous animals, or The Coil’s city guards.

I guess safe is relative out here.

I offer Quell a hand down from Poppy, and he glances at it before his face flushes darker. He climbs down with a mumbled excuse, and I step back, equally uncomfortable. We quickly and silently make for the star drake Darian identified. Quell swings himself up first, and I climb up behind. With only the two of us, there’s enough room for me to put an extra seat between us. I clutch the grip at my seat’s pommel, staring down at my white-knuckled hands, as Quell spurs us into motion.

I was just starting to feel comfortable around the guy. Why did Liz have to go and make it weird?

Darian and Liz take the lead, with Quell and I following, and Earnest and Xamireb at the rear. I’m not sure how effective those two would be at acting as a rear guard, given Xamireb’s injuries, but The Coil guards stop their advance as soon as they realize we’re leaving. They probably just want us gone, and that makes two of us.

We ride for several hours as the sun climbs past midday. Weariness is growing heavy in my limbs like a weight dragging me into my seat. I suppose that means I’ve fully adapted to a nocturnal schedule now. Even with my shade cloak pulled tight around me, the sun claws at my skin anytime a jostle casts light over my exposed hands or forearms. I can’t tell if I’m burning, from the dark gray tone of my skin, but it hurts like hell. I hunch forward, trying to keep as much of myself covered as possible.

Finally, a small sandstone formation rises from the desert’s monotony, and Darian directs us over to the cluster of rocks and arches. Sleep rings the humans’ eyes and slumps their shoulders as we finally climb down from the star drakes, hidden within the rocky alcove. I wearily head over to Poppy and pull the tents and bedrolls from her saddle, starting to set up camp. Earnest and Darian also help, and as soon as there’s a canvas stretched across the burning ground, we heave Xamireb onto it and begin to pitch a tent around them. Liz and Quell settle down with them to examine their wound as the rest of us continue to set up the camp.

“It doesn’t look so bad,” Liz says. “I would have expected a lot more blood given the size of the injury.”

“Earnest’s adapted water spell is holding it back,” Xamireb says. Their voice is calm, but there’s a tremor present that wasn’t there before. “It will wear off in a few hours, and we’ll need to seal the wound before then.”

“You can’t do that yourself?” Quell asks. “Your affinity is fauna, right? That falls within the school of Life arcanum. It should allow you some level of healing abilities.”

“It’s actually a mind affinity rather than beast,” Xamireb admits. “Such a low grade of mind magic, in fact, that it’s only noticeably effective on animals. I’ve no healing spells of my own. However, there’s sutures in the medical supplies on Poppy that should help. It… may be a messy procedure.”

I grimace, struggling with a tent pole. Quell had mentioned before that blood affinities were also in the field of Life arcanum. Does that mean I might be able to develop healing abilities? Maybe Coagulate could help seal up Xamireb’s wound.

Is that something I can do with Coagulate? I ask Echo.

[Negative,] she says. [Coagulate may only be used on blood that is Attuned to the user.]

Damn. But if Earnest has water spells that can slow bleeding, then there’s got to be blood ones that could do the same. Can I learn spells to stop someone else’s bleeding? I ask.

[Affirmative.]

Aha! I thought so. I wait a beat, but Echo doesn’t continue.

Can you teach me those spells? I ask.

[Negative,] Echo says. [Excluding innately known spells, a user may learn spells through study, practice, and/or experimentation.]

Well there’s no books out here to teach me blood magic. But experimentation sounds promising. You mean I could just try to do some kind of magic, and see if it works?

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

[Affirmative.]

That’s good to know. But is this the time and place to try experimental magic? And if it requires a spell circle, like I’ve seen others use, I’d have no idea where to start. I guess it can’t hurt to ask; these people understand how this magic stuff works way better than I do.

As Darian and Earnest finish with the camp, I duck into Xamireb’s tent. The arachnoid is leaning on their side to give better access to their wound while Quell and Liz spread out the medical kit on the floor before them. They both look up as I enter. Trying not to squirm beneath their questioning looks, I focus on Xamireb’s injury. The gash in their abdomen is about twenty-five centimeters wide, with black ichor, now dried, covering the surrounding carapace. Would blood magic even work on a substance like that?

“Hey,” I say, after a moment of silence. “Uh, I just wanted to see if I could be useful at all. Given my magic.”

Quell’s eyebrows raise. “Oh. Yes! That’s a good question. You might be able to help after all. Come, let’s take a look.”

Liz tips her head at me as I take a seat between Quell and Xamireb. “Healing magic?”

“Uh, not exactly,” I say.

“But it is within the Life arcanum field,” Quell says, clearly attempting to soften the blow.

“It’s blood,” I say bluntly.

Liz frowns. “Do you have much experience using it this way?”

“Literally none.”

Xamireb chuckles. “I see I’m in good hands.”

“No, no,” Quell says. “Theoretically, it’s the same principle.”

“Now’s not the time for testing book theories, little Quill,” Liz says.

I thought I’d misheard before, but that’s at least the third time I’ve heard her call him that. “Quill?” I ask.

Liz grins, squiggling her finger through the air. “Because he’s always buried in papers and ink.”

Quell looks very annoyed by this.

I think I’m going to start using it.

Quell turns to me, ignoring his sister. “Those with Life affinities can channel their mana into other living things. You should be able to do the same.”

“I don’t know how to do those magic circles,” I say.

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t need to for something this basic. Here, I’ll show you.”

He takes my hands and holds them up to Xamireb’s wound. I resist, hovering a few inches away, worried about pressing against the injury and making it worse.

“You’re going to have to touch the wound if you want to try to heal it,” Quell admonishes me. “Especially since you’re inexperienced and your affinity is blood; it won’t be as effective as someone with a pure life or healing affinity, and your lack of practice will also contribute to the loss in efficiency. You need to get as close as you can to reduce the mana waste.”

I glance up at Xamireb, and they smile softly. “It’s quite alright. I don’t mind.”

Hesitantly, I let Quell guide my hands against Xamireb’s abdomen. I try not to squirm in discomfort as Quell’s hands stay pressed over my own.

“Now what?” I ask.

“Focus on what you want to do,” Quell says. “Picture it, and will your magic to fulfill that intent.”

I frown. I wish there was just a magic word Echo could give me like Heal and just be done with it. But I follow Quell’s instructions, furrowing my brows as I concentrate on the wound beneath my hands.

Heal, I think anyway, willing my magic to do just that. My fingers start to tingle, then red light glows from beneath my hands. I suck in a breath. This isn’t channeling attacks through the shield. This isn’t invisible, like Attuning my blood. This is real, actual, visible magic. A dumb, giddy smile spreads over my face.

After about thirty seconds, the light snuffs out.

[Mana depleted,] Echo reports. [New spell obtained! Heal: Level 1.]

Hey, what do you know, it is called Heal.

“That’s all I’ve got,” I say. Quell removes his hands from mine, and I pull away from Xamireb. We all lean in to look.

Well it’s not completely healed, that’s for sure. There’s still a black gash in Xamireb’s tan hide. (Skin? Shell? I don’t know what to call this for spider people.) But it’s no longer open: a dull, black substance has hardened within the wound.

All my mana, and I could only make a scab.

“Wow!” Quell cries, shaking my shoulder. “I can’t believe it worked. Way to go!”

“Nice to hear you have so much faith in me,” I deadpan. Despite appearances, however, I’m actually pretty stoked. Even if all I can manage is a scab, I can summon magic and heal people. That’s something else.

Liz smiles faintly at the two of us.

“What worked?” Earnest ducks through the flap. “What’s happened?”

“Your buddy here just closed up Xamireb’s wound,” Liz says.

“Just a scab,” I object.

“It will more than suffice for now,” Xamireb says. “You have my thanks.”

Earnest crouches near his twin, examining the injury. His shoulders slump. “Talor’s blessings. Thank you, Nye.” He looks at me, and he might as well be baring his soul. A weary relief is carved into his expression, though the hints of worry still aren’t entirely gone. “I thought I’d have to stay up all day to keep that staunching spell renewed. Even then I wasn’t sure it would be enough until we could find a real healer.”

“I don’t think I’m really a healer,” I mumble, unsure how to handle all the sudden praise. Liz gleefully nips that in the bud.

“You’re not,” she says. “But for a novice, that wasn’t the worst.” She stands up, dusting her hands off. “Well, come on, everyone. Best to let these guys get some rest.”

I start to push myself up as well, but Quell catches my wrist.

“Ah, might want to be careful with what you touch,” he says, turning my hand over. A tacky black substance is smeared across my palm. “You should get that cleaned off.”

My stomach flutters at the implication. Would partially-dried arachnoid blood cause a Bloodlust the same as fresh blood from a human? Based on Quell’s overabundance of caution, my guess is ‘yes.’

Carefully holding my hands to the side so they don’t touch anything or anyone, I follow Liz and Quell out of the tent.

Darian is preparing a meal by a small fire. There are dark bags under her eyes, and it looks like she’s tried to scrub all the blood off of her as well, despite the stains that still remain on her clothes. She looks up when we emerge from the tent, and smiles wearily at Liz.

“How are you doing?” she asks as the princess plops down next to her.

“I should be asking you that.” She closes her eyes, resting her head on Darian’s shoulder. Now that I have a good chance to look at her, Liz looks more beat up than her chipper demeanor would have me think. She’s covered in dust, her clothes are nearly torn to shreds, and I think I notice bruises on her wrists before her sleeves flutter back over them with a faint breeze.

“You shouldn’t have done that just for me,” she murmurs.

Quell and I sit opposite. He passes me a water skin to rinse my hands, and I grab it with my wrists and pull the cork out with my teeth, then splash some of the water over my hands. Quell continues to stare across at the couple as if he still can’t quite believe it.

“It’s fine,” Darian tells her. “I had it under control.” But she looks up at me with a grimace. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I would have asked if there had been more time.”

“What?” I follow her gaze to my hands, where I’ve begun to scrub them down. They’re brown from where the water has mixed with dust and blood. There’s more dried blood on my arm—red, not black.

“Oh,” I say. It’s where Darian bit me. I’d closed the puncture wounds hours ago while we were riding. Since then, my HP naturally recovered, and now there’s not even a scar. “I don’t mind. I know why you did it. I was just… surprised.”

Darian huffs out a laugh. “I can imagine. Sorry I didn’t tell you. The Bloodlust is a secret I try to keep close to my chest.”

“Why?” I ask. “You said around one in a hundred dhampyrs have it. That’s not common, but not particularly rare, either.”

“Common enough,” she says. “Though not for combatants. Those with the Bloodlust are discouraged from serving. And those who join anyway are often shunned. No one wants to fight alongside an ally who might turn on you without warning. It’s difficult to rise in the ranks with that kind of stigma pinned to your back.”

“What?” Quell says. “I didn’t know about that. Who’s preventing Bloodlust afflicted dhampyrs from being promoted? That should be stopped.”

She looks at him, pityingly. I can relate.

“I doubt it’s one person,” I tell him. “And they’re probably not even being actively malicious. But gather enough people with an unconscious bias together, and a pattern will emerge.”

Darian nods along to my words. “I don’t fault them, for what it’s worth. It is dangerous. You have to train for years to be able to discern ally from enemy while in that state. An untrained dhampyr with the Bloodlust is dangerous to field.”

Untrained like me, she means. I dry off my hands and pass the waterskin back to Quell.

Darian gently props Liz up as she leans forward to pass out the meal. Rare meat for Darian and me; standard rations for Quell and Liz. We eat in a sort of half-dazed silence.

Liz sighs as she chews on a piece of jerky. “This is the best meal I’ve had in weeks.”

Quell stops eating as he stares at his sister. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” She pops the last piece in her mouth, chewing heartily. “That was a compliment.”

“What did they give you to eat?” Quell asks. “Was it even enough?”

Liz hesitates. I know that look. I’ve used it with my own little brother. She doesn’t want him to worry, but she doesn’t know what to say.

“All this time, I’ve had a full stomach while you…” Quell looks down, blinking rapidly as he sets his meal asside. He shakes his head, swiping his sleeve at his cheek. “I was just so worried. I wasn’t sure if—I wanted you to be okay. I was so terrified you wouldn’t be okay—” His voice cracks.

Liz jumps up and rushes to him, throwing her arms around her brother. Quell sobs, digging his hands into the clothes on her back, as if she’d dissolve into mist if he let her go.

“Hush, now. Hush. I’m here.” Liz rocks him back and forth. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

My throat tightens up, and I have to look away before it breaks down my walls. That’ll be me and Álvaro, soon. It has to be. I meet Darian’s gaze as the siblings cling to one another. She smiles sadly.

“I think it’s time for everyone to get some sleep,” she says after a minute. Reluctantly, Quell releases his sister. “We’ve all had a long night. Tomorrow we can evaluate our path forward. For now, it would be best for everyone to rest.”

Quell nods, removing his glasses to wipe down his face. Everyone stands, and Liz gives him one last squeeze.

“Chin up, little Quill,” she says. “It’s over. Tomorrow’s a new moon, and we’ll walk beneath it together. Alright?”

He forces a smile. “Yes. Of course. Thank you.”

She flashes him a smile, then returns to Darian, looping an arm through hers as they head for her tent. Quell watches her go, shakes his head, and then turns for his own.

Under the cool relief of the canvas, I nearly pass out as soon as I lay down. Quell fusses with his bedroll, turning one way and then the other. He finally ends up on his side that faces me. I don’t think he can see me, in the dark, but his eyes are roaming in my direction, like he’s trying to think of something to say.

I beat him to it. “So. Little Quill—”

“Oh, shut up.” Quell rolls over, putting his back to me, and I laugh. Neither of us say anything else as exhaustion quickly pulls us down into a soothing black.